Trust
by robspace54
Summary: Everything was going so well, until it wasn't. Crichton thinks back to how it all started.
1. Chapter 1

Trust

By robspace54

**Rated: T for Teen. Suitable for all ages of hoomans above the minimum age to watch sci-fi.**

**Time: Just after Episode 1 - "Premiere / Through the Eye of the Needle"**

**FARSCAPE is owned by the Jim Henson Company. This story is for purely personal and entertainment purposes. No encroachment on any property rights are intended or implied.**

000

Dad, you asked me about rattlers just before I launched on the shuttle. Oh yeah Dad, I feel those rattlers now and it started like this.

My theory worked! It worked Dad! Wow did it work. Holy cow! And now I am far beyond the stars Dad, farther than Captain Kirk ever thought to fly. It must have been a wormhole. Einstein and Hawking didn't rule those out and just my luck, well I got sucked in by one. A helluva of a way to prove their science was right. Boy were they right.

So I came out of it in some asteroid field, and there was a battle going on - little ships shooting at this huge thing. Dad it was I don't know how long; maybe a thousand meters. Hell I don't know. But it's big… really big. I had a close call with another craft which veered off and it must have crashed against an asteroid, I guess. Poor guy, or whatever, but more on that later.

I tried to veer away from the free fire zone around this big ship, but there was some sort of field that pulled me closer and in - inside it. There was a hanger bay in the interior and I got the module down on her landing gear, which made no sense, for there was gravity inside - lights and air too. Which is fortunate for me as that's when the fire started. I think it was the main power bus which blew. I had to get out and fast! The air inside the ship thing was breathable; more than breathable. The air was damp, and it almost made me think of fresh cut grass right after it rains, oh, and with a good dose of dog doo, lemons and light machine oil. Weird.

With the fire out I looked around and figured that whoever was flying the beast must be upfront; if there was a bridge, that's where I'd put it. After wandering around I just kept going what I hoped was forward. There were these odd pressure doors that cut across the tunnels that opened as I approached. Did I mention that the tunnels are painted gold and have almost organic looking reinforcing ribs top and sides? Damndest way to build a ship.

I found the bridge, Dad. There was port up forward and the battle was still going on. We seemed to be getting the crap kicked out of us and I could tell I was on the losing side of this contest.

There was a big guy, in a red suit, screaming at the top of his lungs. He had tentacles, Dad, on his head. And there was this tall blue woman, I think she's a woman, no hair though, but statuesque.

They were speaking gibberish until some yellow machine rolled up and stuck me in the ankle, injected me really. Then I could understand them. They told later it was translator microbes. Weird.

The red guy stung me with his tongue – must have been ten feet long and I went down like a shot.

The blue gal was Zhaan, and the tentacle guy was D'Argo, a general I was told. Oh yeah and there was Sparky. Little guy, about two feet tall. He's green and gray and rides a floating chair. Says he's Rygel the XVI, says it like I should bend down and kowtow to the little shrimp.

And they're all prisoners – escaped criminals – and it seems that I'm on the run too.

Rygel, told me, "We can no more trust you than we can trust that!" Then he pointed to a black spacesuit in the cell with me. After I got stung I woke in a holding cell. Same gold stuff on the walls and the bars across the front would stop a tank.

And I thought I'd make nice – First Contact, right – especially since it was a woman in that suit. She kicked my ass as I held out a hand in friendship.

She said she was, "Officer Aeryn Sun, Special Peacekeeper Commando, Icarion Company." Then she demanded I identify myself. Now here's the funny thing. I'm a human, and this Aeryn is Sebacean, but you know she looks like me; I mean she looks like a normal everyday red-blooded woman, at least from what I can tell with her clothes on. If you dropped her down on the UNC campus she'd fit right in, except for the battle suit she was wearing.

Sometime during the time she pounded my head against the floor, she got the idea that I wasn't who she thought I was. I wasn't hurt too bad and the bruises should heal in a few weeks, I hope.

I managed to convince Rygel I wasn't a Peacekeeper, one of Aeryn's people, and I was a scientist and lost. That's when I got the low down. Best of all sport fans! The ship I'm on is a prison ship, a _living_ ship – a biomechanoid, whatever that is!

Rygel, the blue gal, and the guy with the tentacles, they're all escaped prisoners, and the ship is a prison ship. They managed to get free, dump their guards (I didn't ask how), and get away. That field that sucked me inside was some sort of docking web, and we only got away from the Peacekeeper ships because the ship used _StarBurst_. They tried to explain the process and it sounds like it splits the fabric of space apart and we slip through. Not like wormhole travel at all. Both experiences made my head spin but _StarBurst_ made me feel like my eyes were exploding.

So this Aeryn Sun, the one in the black suit, she's tough, not at all interested in dealing with our hosts, and after she and I escaped from the cell they had us locked in we got out. Out of that cell, and onto Aeryn's ship, which makes my module look like a tug boat, and flew away down to a planet we were nearby.

They called it a Commerce Planet; sort of a giant mall that covered the whole thing and it puts the Mall of America to shame. So I got to touch another world Dad. I know you going to the Moon was a big deal, don't get me wrong – but Dad, I got to stand on another planet. And you know the funny thing? It _smelled_ alien but maybe that was all the critters that lived and worked there. They made the Star War's cantina scene look lame - Lucas and Spielberg would flip if they saw what and who I saw down there; right out of the Twilight Zone but with H. P. Lovecraft thrown in.

Now Aeryn had signaled her mother ship to pick us up and that sounded like a good idea. The thought or running around the galaxy with a bunch of criminals didn't sound very appealing to me. I figured I could play the John Crichton, Scientist card, and maybe – somehow – find my way home. Lady Luck had other ideas.

Officer Sun's commander, name of Bialar Crais, shows up on the Commerce Planet and arrests me, says I killed his brother. Now I did have a fender bender when the wormhole dumped me here, wherever here is. I found out the boss man's little brother was in that other ship, the one I clipped and now, now Dad, I'm a wanted man. Crais practically spit when he saw me and if looks could kill - well, I think he'd rather make it slow and painful.

I won't boast but I was desperate Dad, we got off that rock, escaped in Moya, that's the living ship, she has a _name_, and now we're somewhere in what they call the Uncharted Territories. All I can say is I got to shoot my first raygun today and it was quite the experience.

Now, Aeryn _too_ is hunted by the Crais guy, as she was 'irreversibly contaminated.' I guess her people are either racial purists or some mean _ess oh bees_ to throw her under the bus like that. We captured her, not like she joined us willingly, but now she's wanted like the rest of us.

Aeryn told me that this Crais _will_ follow us, no matter where we go, no matter how far we run. But from what I have seen I don't think I have much choice; the running I mean.

000

I found Aeryn down one of the tunnels, they call them tiers, just sitting on the deck, with her elbows on her knees, back to the wall, and she glared at me as I walked up to her.

"What do you want?" She had the look of a whipped dog or a puppy that's had a lot of fun doing what her master wanted and now she's been given up for adoption.

I sat down and leaned against the opposite wall. "To talk."

"Go away."

"Okay. I can do that. I'll just strap myself into my Tom Corbett rocket ship and zoom - fly away home."

"That what you call it?"

"No it's my module, my Farscape module."

"Is it armed?"

"What?"

"Armaments? Pulse cannon, long range blasters, ECM jammers?"

"No… nothing like that. I got a Swiss Army knife in the tool kit and a couple of screwdrivers though."

She sneered. "It must be a very small army."

"It's a brand. It's who…" I stopped when I could see she thought I was crazy. "Made it."

Aeryn shook her head sadly. "Hooman not Sebacean. You are sure?"

"Yep. Human. Hu - man."

"Right." She rubbed her hands together and I could see the muscles in her forearms cord up.

"You're... upset."

"What?" she bristled.

"Nothing."

In a flash she launched herself at me and grabbed me by the throat. "This is ALL YOUR FAULT!" she screamed and bared her teeth. "I _should_ kill you. I could, right now!"

I threw up my hands. "Hey lady, uncle!"

"What?" she jammed my head back against the wall.

"Damn it, stop that! I ma sick and tired of being everybody's punching bag!" I yelled and pushed her back, my hands on her very human feeling shoulders. "Is that the way you make friends and influence people? Beating them up?"

"Peacekeepers don't have friends!"

"Really? Well you must be a real blast when ya'll throw a block party!"

Aeryn's eyes opened wide. "What are you talking about? What you're saying is gibberish."

"If you quit choking me I'll try to explain."

She let me go and in pretty short order I found she had never lived in a neighborhood and didn't know what one was. "Where do you live? Where did you grow up?"

"On the Command Carrier for the last three cycles. Other ships before that."

"Cycles?"

"A standard cycle is the time it takes the planet Rebulon to make one orbit of its sun."

"Rebulon?"

"Yes, in the Itax System. Every child knows that."

I sighed. "Aeryn, I'm not from around here."

"Yes," she hissed. "So you say." She grabbed my left hand and examined it closely, bending the fingers back and forth tracing the tendons and joints to my wrist. "You lie. You're a Sebacean."

"No. I told you I'm a human. I'm from the planet _Earth_."

"Urp?"

"_Earth_."

She laughed and rocked back on her heels, her black vest flapping open and I could see her breasts under her black shirt which were very, uhm, well, human-like, even to the point the shape of her nipples showed through the fabric. "Urrrp."

"Earrrthh," I emphasized the sound trying to keep my mind off her very human-like female attributes. I'd also noticed them when she pounded my cranium against the desk in the cell yesterday, long dark hair and pretty face, plus her slim hands, her thighs, tight muscular legs… I dropped my hands to cover my crotch which was wise, as… well, why do you think, Dad?

"It must be a renegade colony of Peacekeepers or a lost outpost. How long ago was it colonized?" she said. "Must be."

"No, no. I, we, humans that is, we come from there - and _only_ there."

"Only one planet? Ridiculous!" She jumped up and glared down at me. "You will be ripe for conquest! You must be backward."

I sighed. "Aeryn…"

"Officer Sun to you!"

"Officer Sun, do you do that? Conquer planets?"

She nodded. "Yes. We have - we do."

"So it's just one big happy family, all under Peacekeeper control, that it? If that's true so why are we fleeing from Crais into the Uncharted Territories? Tell me that Sherlock!"

"No, Crichton," she answered. "There are… volumes... of the galaxy where Peacekeeper Command has no outpost, colonies, or even patrols." She started to walk away.

"So we'll be safe out here."

She ran back and kicked my ankle then stood on it. Then she grabbed my hair and tugged on it.

"Oww!"

"Are you safe now?" she asked, with an almost gleeful snarl.

I gulped. "This isn't going to be easy, is it?"

She let me go then squatted down staring at me. "Not a Sebacean."

I rubbed my ankle. "No."

She stared into my eyes. "Perhaps you tell the truth."

"Damn it Aeryn, quit picking on me!" I pushed her backwards and she landed on her ass, giving me a chance to stand over her. "How do you like it?"

That was a huge mistake as she flattened me with a leg scissors move then planted a foot in my crotch and grabbing my ankle pulled.

"Jesus!" Stop it! Uncle!" I slapped the deck with an open palm.

She climbed to her feet. "Get up."

I did, stepping back to take a jab at her.

She parried with an elbow block then jammed her hand against my throat. "I could kill you right this microt."

"This what Crais is going to do to me?"

She shook her head. "I fear that Commander Crais will have some exquisite torture planned for you."

"And for you? What about you Officer Sun?"

Her strong fingers dropped from my throat. "Summary execution or worse I would be given the honor of being used for target practice of my unit. Then they would be killed as an object lesson for the rest of the Squadron." Her lips trembled as she said it.

"And they call you Peacekeepers. Doesn't sound very peaceful to me."

"It is our way," she said in a very small voice.

"Irreversibly contaminated he called you."

She shrugged. "_He_ said it and I _am_ now. The orders for my death have already been signified. All they await is for it to happen. There will be a special award to the trooper that captures me, without killing me." She rubbed her arms with her hands. "I'll suicide first."

"No!" I yelled and she jumped. "Remember what I told you on the planet? You're not just a soldier, Aeryn - not just Officer Sun - commando. You are a living breathing, uhm, Sebacean, Aeryn, and you can be more."

"More?"

"More than this," and I reached out to tap her battle vest. "More than a soldier."

"I'm a Prowler Pilot," she said holding her head a little higher. "Best in my squadron."

"Okay that too. Be more. Learn to be something else," I sighed. "I thought I was a scientist, astronaut. Now I have to learn to be a…" I gulped, "_fugitive_."

She nodded. "Just choose your allies wisely, Crichton."

I smiled at her. "Sure. I guess I need to figure out _who_ I can trust."

She propped her hands on hips, spread her long legs and glared at me. "Why are you smiling?"

I shook my head. Bottom of the ninth, down by ten runs, with two men out, two strikes on me and the biggest, roughest, toughest pitcher they got is on the mound and he's winding up to drill me. "We humans - we don't give up easily."

"You're insane," she laughed, then turned and walked away and I got to admire that Sebacean backside of hers, until she turned a corner.

One of the little yellow bug-like DRDs trundled up to me, the one with the broken eyestalk. "Hey little fella," I told it, "sorry I stepped on you."

The machine, or bug, beeped at me.

"You're no R2-D2 I guess. Come on," I gestured and started to walk away, following Aeryn's path. "I think I can fix you."

A little tape from my repair kit and the glowing sensor or camera on the stalk glowed once more. "There little fella. Friends?"

The machine made a slow circle over the table top then faced me. It beeped once and the damaged eyestalk sensor blinked twice.

"I'll take that for a yes," I told it.

So Dad, I'm on an amazing journey, not one of my choosing or control. Damn and double damn.

Rattlers you asked? Oh yeah. Big mothers and I'm _scared_ Dad.

So, I'll keep a log on my tape recorder. This is John Crichton - somewhere in the Universe. Signing off until next time. I think I've seen enough wonders for one day.


	2. Chapter 2

**FARSCAPE is owned by the Jim Henson Company. This story is for purely personal entertainment purposes. No encroachment on any property rights are intended or implied.**

"Crichton!" a bellicose voice yelled and I turned to see General Ka D'Argo glaring at me. "What are you doing?"

"To be honest I was trying to find the, uhm, the sanitary facilities."

He braked to a halt in front of me. "Why are you looking for water treatment equipment?"

"No, no. The uhm… the… well what do you do when you have personal waste products to dispose of?"

"They are recycled."

"No, no. I can see this is not working well," I sighed. "I'm dancing the gotta do it samba and nowhere to go."

The alien glared at me. "Samba?"

"It's a dance."

"You need to dance? You hoomans are strange."

"Honest to God. Look I have to take a wiz, a leak, a pee, uhm, release waste products from my body. Got it?"

The alien laughed and his massive voice echoed down the long tube-like tier. "You have to drop dren!"

"Dren?"

"It's what comes out your eema!" He bent double laughing at me.

"Listen D'Argo, it's no laughing matter."

"Come human, I'll show you." He grabbed my arm and tugged me a hundred meters down the tier, to the cell Aeryn and I had been locked in. "Go in," he shoved me.

"Ok. Hide and seek time is over, okay? Now where's the _damn_ bathroom?"

D'Argo smiled and touched a stud on the wall, making a panel swing aside revealing a hole in the floor and a rather Earth like looking sink on the wall. "What you call a bathroom. We call it a _refresher_."

I pushed past him, entered the small chamber and closed the door. "Whew…"

I came out to see him grinning. "Better?" he sneered.

"Oh yeah. Thought I was gonna bust."

"You didn't need the refresher before."

"No. Guess I was scared."

"Too scared to give a wheez?"

"_Wiz_, D'Argo. From the sound."

"Ha!" He clapped me on the shoulder. "I like you. You make me laugh."

I rubbed the spot where he'd hit me. "Remind not to make you laugh too often, at least within arm's reach."

He nodded. "We Luxans are strong - fierce - and warriors. I am. Not _all_ are. We have farmers, artisans, dancers, poets, and yes _even_ scientists. But _I_ am a warrior."

I looked at his lined face where a scar crossed his beaky nose. "I can see that."

"Listen to me Crichton," he said softly, "I've seen you hanging around that Peacekeeper." He almost spat the last word.

"Uhm…"

"She'd sell us all to Peacekeeper Command if she thought it would save her skin." He laughed. "Not that that will happen. She's just as dead as the rest of us."

"Well I'm still breathing so I guess _I'm not dead yet_!" I chuckled.

D'Argo glared at me.

"Okay. Take a note; _no_ Monty Python out here. I guess the TV reception is bad," I muttered.

"Tee-Vee?"

"Television - sort of like that vision screen the ship's Pilot uses. Frequency modulation transmission of a scanned image…"

He cut me off. "Yes, Crichton."

"Speaking of out here, we're in the Uncharted Territories?"

"And will be for a long time," his voice rumbled. "If we are lucky."

"So we _can_ hide. Space is really big, really, really big." I smiled at the thought of Carl Sagan. "Really, really."

"Captain Crais will not stop seeking _you_ or _us_." He paused. "Maybe he wants you a lot more than he wants us?" He looked me up and down. "I wonder how many krindars we can get for you."

"Oh great, now you're gonna sell me to the highest bidder? Swell!" I started to back away from him.

He sniffed in my direction. "You don't smell bad and there may be a market for you - on the renegade Peacekeeper trade perhaps. I've heard your kind make good breeding stock."

"Whoa! Whoa, D'Argo! Breeding stock?"

"Or maybe as an appetizer. I know there are some who like strange meat. Or at least it said that your kind is tasty after roasting over a slow fire - basted with beejum sauce of course."

I shook my head and backed further from him. "Maybe I'll just stay right here in my cell."

D'Argo watched me slyly and then cackled. "I made you scared! Scared of me!"

"Uhm, yeah, a little."

He laughed once more. "Come Crichton. Let's see if there is anything to drink on board Moya." His gloved hand slapped me on the back. "There may be some liquid rations. Peacekeepers like raslak. We may find some."

"You're very chummy for a guy who threatened me earlier."

The alien stopped and swung me around so we faced each other. "_Yesss_. I already told you that if you threaten my freedom I _will_ kill you." His sharp incisors gleamed in the golden light from the glow-lamps.

I took three steps forward and got in his face. "I remember. No need to repeat it."

"Good."

"They had you locked up for eight years?"

He touched the metal rings that protruded from what I assumed were the Luxan version of collar bones. "They chained me. They used these."

"Phew. Hard time."

"Hard… time. A good way to put it."

One of the little yellow DRDs peeked around a corner and beeped at us. "Is that thing following us?"

D'Argo's eyes gleamed. "Not us. You."

"Me?" I pointed to my chest with my thumb. "What possible threat am I? I can't sting anybody like you can."

"That's right."

"Or pilot Moya or that Prowler like Aeryn can. She put us in a wingover, must have pulled six gees, and she didn't even grunt while I was whimpering in the back like a little girl. Gal's got skills at the control stick."

He glared at me. "We don't quite trust her either, but we know _she_ is a Peacekeeper and we know what to expect from her. But you… are…" he sniffed again, "different."

"So I'm the unknown quantity - the X factor."

D'Argo nodded. "One way to put it."

I crossed my arms. "Look General Ka D'Argo."

"Just D'Argo."

"Fine. Look at me. Nearly useless, weak, skinny, no fangs or forked tongue, stingers, hidden anti-gravs, _or_ superpowers! I don't understand your customs, the food, where the freakin' refresher is for God's sake, and _you_ think I'm a threat."

"Crais will pursue you to the ends of the Universe and he will have his revenge."

"Well that's comforting. What if I hadn't shown up? What if I wasn't along on your little star trek?"

"Crais would still send kill units after us, but not a full carrier, commanded by the task force commander. You have made a very powerful enemy, weak as you claim to be."

"Little old Earthman, that's me and I don't know a thing about anything."

D'Argo rumbled, "Well that maneuver you had Moya pull at the Commerce planet got us out of range of the carrier! What was that?"

"Oh, just a little theory that my buddy DK and I cooked up." I sighed. "I bet DK and Dad are poring over the telemetry, and they have no idea I turned into Robinson Crusoe on Moya." I exhaled deeply again. "But it worked. It worked, and but for that wormhole showing up I'd never have met you Big D."

"Big D?"

"Short for D'Argo. But my theory worked."

He grinned. "It worked. I bet Crais was throwing a dren fit when we went off his scanners."

I leaned against the wall, or maybe it was a bulkhead, as I peered at the arched structure. "This is a rib. Moya's rib."

"Moya, like all Leviathans, has internal bracing to give her form."

"Like a whale."

"Whale? I'm sorry, I don't under…?"

"Large sea creature; lives in salt water, not as large as Moya, but big; biggest creatures on Earth for the last 30 million years. They're mammals. They bear live young and nurse them after birth."

"Ah," he said, "I understand the reference. I too am a mammal, but a male of course."

I looked at his muscular body, muscles bulging legs, arms, and chest. "Good to know."

"It's not always easy to tell, Crichton. Best not to make any… ahem… assumptions about such things until you know."

"What?"

"You and those Peacekeeper dren are much the same, I think." His nose dipped towards me sniffing the air. "You smell the same. Could likely mate with them."

I ducked my head and got a quick whiff of overworked deodorant and sweaty clothing from my armpit. "Gonna have to wash."

"The refresher has a shower and there is cleansing gel."

"I guess I can't get a bar of Dial around here."

D'Argo laughed. "Whatever Dial is; unlikely."

"And those food cubes aren't much to write home about."

"That is what we have, so that is what we will eat."

I nodded. "Fine. Fine. Now what is raslak?"

D'Argo laughed. "Come, weak and useless Urpman. I know where there might be a bottle. Head Guard quarters are on Tier 2."

"Speaking of which, y'all are prisoners and there had to be guards."

"There were."

"What… what, uhm… did you?"

"Crichton," he grinned at me. "Moya is surrounded by a very hard vacuum. It was not hard for Rigel to cross circuit the controls and open a few critical chambers to space."

"Oh," I gulped.

"They didn't suffer," he said, "_unfortunately_."

"Yeah," I glanced at the polished metal rings sticking out of his chest. "I can see how you'd feel that way."


	3. Chapter 3

**FARSCAPE is owned by the Jim Henson Company. This story is for purely personal entertainment purposes. No encroachment on any property rights are intended or implied.**

"Hey!" I yelled. "What are you doing?"

The little gray squirt looked at me belligerently. "Hey yourself! This is mine!" He tried to scamper off with the transceiver unit from my module, climbing onto his throne-sled.

I'd been trying to repair it but so far no go. "No!" I grabbed it and we fought a tug-of-war.

"As Ruler Supreme of Hyneria I claim all that is in the Uncharted Territories! No other Hynerian has ventured so far from the Home World! So by rights, it is mine, including this piece of dren!" His short but strong digits pawed at mine and the box.

"No Sparky!" it is MINE!" I swung my arms up high and the littler turd had to let go.

His chair shot backward, and then came closer, rising so his eyes were at the level of my face. "You ARE a backward species! When I am re-enthroned I shall have the entire Hynerian Navy search for your puny planet and burn it top cinders!"

"Nope sorry. Not _today_." I tucked the unit back into my small duffle. "Now stay OUT of my stuff, Fluffy!"

"Fluffy? Sparky? Did I give you permission to call me these… these… epithets? You may address me as your Supreme Eminence, or Rygel the 16th, but nothing less." His chair bobbed higher. "You. You, ooman. Who do you think you are?"

"Buckwheat - I am Commander John Crichton – astronaut – scientist – HUMAN - and I have beat all of them! Christopher Columbus, Magellan, Lindberg, Gagarin, AND Armstrong!" My hand shot out and seized the ridge above his eyes, which ended in feathery tufts. His ear holes were below these, on the sides of his pointy head, so it was like grabbing an ear. "There ain't nobody, little buddy, that can count coup over me for I have flown higher than _eagles_, soared where _angels_ never flew and set foot on _alien_ _worlds_! And YOU! You? You little FROG, you take my stuff?"

"OW! Crichton! Let me go!"

I got right in his face and growled. "My STUFF! Now back the hell off." I tried to literally throw him backwards when I let him go. "Leave my STUFF ALONE!"

The little squirt belched and sneered at me. "Hell?"

"Yeah – Hell; a place of _eternal_ and fiery punishment! Where all the bad little boys, uhm, aliens go!"

He bobbed his gray head, slit eyes blinking like some weird cat. "I _understand_. Reminds me of Reazior Seven and the magma mines there. I've sentenced any number of _unworthies_ to a life of torment and misery in that place."

I sighed for this was like trying to have a conversation with Mrs. Campbell's poodle. "No referents. Got it."

"What's the hezmana is that supposed to mean?" he grunted.

"Aeryn… or D'Argo, or maybe it was Zhaan, told me the translator microbes you injected me with, which make our communication possible, look for a useful reference in our brains. Without that it's all mish-mash. Gobble-de-gook. Gibberish."

"Yessss. Well, when you've been a prisoner as long as I have…"

"I got the feeling the Peacekeepers have held you for a while."

"A WHILE?!" he nearly screamed. "It's been over hundred and thirty cycles, you cretin! And when I get back to Hyneria I will find and personally torture to death Bishan, my usurper, with _every_ fiber of my being. In the end, I may kill him, just out of mercy! Or put the shattered remnants of his body on life extension just I can enjoy his torment a bit longer – say two hundred cycles!"

That stopped me cold. "A long time – very long time."

He nodded his bullet head, which made practically his whole two-foot tall frame bend forward. "One way to put it. So, yes, Crichton I have met many other prisoners over the cycles. Some I hardly knew, others… well let's say we shared too much for too long. I've known over seventy different species during my captivity by the Peacekeepers. But you," his slit nose wiggled, "you are different in many ways."

"Sorry Rygel," I said.

He had started to float away but stopped and peered at me intently. "Humph. Well Crichton _you_ had nothing to do with it so _why_ are you apologizing?"

I shrugged. "Something we do on Earth. We apologize; feel compassion – sympathy – some call it empathy."

He grunted. "Are you a frelling psycho-specialist? One of those lot?"

"No."

He turned his throne to face me. "A hundred and thirty cycles and no one…" his guttural voice trailed off into a whisper. "Ever…"

"No one what? Did I say something wrong?"

He shook his head the way our next door neighbor's dog did when he had a good shake of his whole body. "No one, Crichton. No one – ever – _ever_ said that."

"What did I say?"

He had been sitting there looking quite imperious; stiff and regal, or at least as regal as anyone could who looked like a squashed human in a frog suit. "The, uhm, _thing_." But now he sat there a trifle slumped, his ear brow drooping, along with his whiskers. "What you said."

"So you folks live a long time."

He sniffed. "Huh?"

"You live a long time. How old are you?"

He came back from some dark place and looked me in the eye. "A _long_ time – yes. I'll be five hundred and one cycles on my next hatching day."

"Gonna need a really big cake."

"Cake?"

"A baked confectionary – with sugary icing. An Earth birthday we bake a cake and put candles on it. Then we sing Happy Birthday and the birthday boy or girl, or deposed ruler, blows out the candles."

"Sugar?" his face lit up. "What's that?"

"A complex carbohydrate. The chemical formula is C12H22O11. Lots of sugar, Rygel."

"Sounds interesting." He looked around furtively then slid his throne close to me and smiled. "You have this _soogar_ on this Urp of yours?"

"Earth; it's called Earth. Yeah, a lot of sugar. Too much - just ask any dentist."

His eyes widened. "Really. Well, ahem, perhaps, I will _not_ have your world slagged down to the core. Possibly, when I get back on my throne, I'll send a little expedition – open trading routes, all that – and bargain for exclusive rights to your Urp _soogarrr_." His mouth slobbered as he said it. "Don't tell anyone else aboard about the soogar, got it?"

"_Sugar_, but yeah. Got it."

He nodded. "How do your people signify a making of a contract?"

"We shake hands."

Rygel held out his three fingered left paw (sort of a hand) and waved it about. "Done."

I smiled. "No. Hold out your right hand."

"The right? The sign of the Ancients?"

I took his right hand, trying not to flinch from his oily body fluids. "Like this. Now we shake our joined hands up and down. Like this."

He smiled. "Fine. Fine. So much better than hordes of legal entities nattering back and forth over the omni-com."

"Oh yeah." I grinned. "Are there contract attorneys on your world?"

"No," he sniffed. "We have an entire sub-race for that – we adopted them for just that purpose." He sighed. "With 600 billion subjects, Hyneria can be frightfully complex to govern, so we have an entire race of bureaucrats to handle such things. All beneath my dignity of course."

"Well," I told him, "let's just call it a gentleman's agreement then."

"I feel I can trust you." He harrumphed. "And certainly cheaper than sending a battle fleet to conquer your puny world."

That stopped me cold. "You would conquer my planet to get sugar? My God what would you do for a Hershey bar?"

"What's that?"

"Oh Rygel, you have no idea. It's called chocolate and it's loaded with sugar. Bet you'd like one right now."

He sniffed. "Sounds… sounds…" his stomach rumbled. "Sorry. Food cubes."

I nodded. "Not the best fare."

His throne rose and turned. "Farewell Crichton. I must… ahem… use the refresher."

"TMI, Ryg; Too Much Information," I said to his retreating back. "The guy would conquer Earth to get sugar?" I muttered to myself. "Strange new world indeed."


	4. Chapter 4

**Rated: T for Teen. Suitable for all ages of hoomans above the minimum age to watch sci-fi.**

**Time: Just after Episode 1 - "Premiere / Through the Eye of the Needle"**

**FARSCAPE is owned by the Jim Henson Company. This story is for purely personal entertainment purposes. No encroachment on any property rights are intended or implied.**

I followed a beeping and bleeping DRD down the tier and into a large chamber, passing through a typical valve-like door. I had to admit that if I was designing a living ship, the idea of pivoting doors seemed like a good design. I watched as the door slowly swung closed behind me while the DRD circled back and nudged my boot. "Okay little guy. I get it."

The chamber was huge, the largest I'd seen on board, and at the center sat the pilot, no wrong, _Pilot_; that was his name. The DRD chivvied me along like an electronic sheepdog across a catwalk that had no handrails until I was facing the creature. I snuck a look over the side and the chamber was far deeper than I imagined. It must go all the way down to Moya's keel. There was a strange odor in the room, but all the smells of Moya seemed strange to me.

I stopped about three meters away from Pilot, and it was all the closer I wanted to get. It, no _he_, was easily four meters tall covered by large exoskeletal plates, with a large head holding giant eyes above a beaky mouth. His four arms were as long as I was, but they seemed to have wrist, elbow, and shoulder joints which looked like spherical ball joints. The hands had three-digits and his skin or whatever looked like a well aged bronze statue. If he had legs they were hidden from sight.

How can I describe him? Take E.T., yes Spielberg's E.T., stretch him so he's about ten feet tall, make his head look like a helmet, take off his nose, add another pair of arms and cover him with scales. His arms were moving back and forth ceaselessly over some sort of control panel which looked like a jagged coral reef, not metallic like some of Moya's interior.

His huge eyes stared at me impassively as I stood in front of him. "Ah there you are," he said. "You look smaller in person." His voice sounded warmer in person and he spoke softly, almost companionably.

"Ahm, okay. And you are bigger, much. Much taller, bulkier. The viewer doesn't give any sense of scale."

The massive crested head nodded. "I am the usual size for one of my kind at this stage of my life."

"Zhaan says you are part of Moya."

"Uhm, yes. She and I are… we have been _bonded_… for several cycles."

"Bonded?"

"Grafted you might say. I am connected to her central plexus through my nervous terminus. Think of Moya and I me as having two bodies and two minds, intertwined as one."

"Everything she feels you feel and vice-versa?"

"No, she is…" he stopped mouth agape, "it is hard to explain."

"Ah," I replied. "So what's it like?"

"Like?"

"You feel what she feels? Know what she's thinking?"

"In a way." He sighed. "More like watching a stream flow past, being in the stream, but not part of it."

I pointed to his moving arms. "But why a control panel? Why? If you are joined into her thoughts why are there controls?"

Pilot cocked his head. "That is true, I do hear her thoughts, but… many of these…" a lower arm rose and arced over the panel before him, "are for the systems which make it possible for life to be maintained aboard her. But enough about me and Moya. Moya wanted to meet our newest crew member in person. You are Commander John Crichton, Astronaut, or so you say."

Dare I tell him that my rank of 'Commander' was made-up; that I had been tap dancing that day; feeling the need to elevate my status? "A Scientist too."

"Yessss." He stared at me. "Turn around."

"What?"

His claw-like upper left hand waved in a circle. "Please. For me, uhm, us."

I slowly turned so he could see all of me. "And you?"

"Sorry, Commander. I am, unable to do that, unfortunately."

"Oh the nervous terminus," I chuckled.

The giant creature snapped his beak-mouth closed. "You are making fun of me." His tone was angry.

"No Pilot just trying to understand. Never met anyone like you."

Several deep tones sounded in the chamber. "Yes, ahem, Commander, you look similar to Peacekeepers. Moya was enslaved by Peacekeeper for numerous cycles."

"But I'm not - not a Peacekeeper."

"Yesss," he hissed. "Zhaan says her bio scan agrees with you. So you are a hooman bean."

"Hu-man be-ing," I told him slowly. "From Earth."

"Urp?" He stopped. "No? Earrtthhh," he drew out the word. "Officer Sun calls your planet Urp."

I sighed. "I think she says it that way to piss me off."

"Piss out?"

"_Off_. Translator microbes not working. It means that she'd doing it to get under my skin."

"I see." Pilot cocked his head. "Officer Sun appears to be having a tough time - adjusting. Life on a leviathan is… well," he blinked his eyes, "different from her former life."

"I sense that."

"Astronaut you say?" the large pilot asked.

"Means star traveler."

The large eyes blinked at me while the DRD at my feet backed up and went away. "Just like me then. Your spacecraft…"

"My module. Farscape 1."

"Yesss. It is like the Peacekeeper craft - being made by artisans."

"Yep. We have engineers who build, well design them. My friend DK; he designed her; modified from a NASA prototype with money from IASA. Lockheed-Martin built her hull but the avionics are by Northrop Grumman."

"I do not recognize these people. Did they do a good job?"

"Yes - she's a good ship."

"Her?"

"On Earth all ships are called 'she.' "

"Like Moya."

"Moya is female."

"There are also male leviathans. The Peacekeepers…" he stopped and coughed. "Moya wants to be assured that your craft is unarmed."

I knew the DRDs had been crawling over Farscape, so he knew all there was to know. "Yes. No cannons or anything like that."

Pilot nodded. "You told Zhaan that you are a scientist and you are on a science mission."

"One way to put it. Bit lost at the moment."

"Yes." Pilot paused and blinked several times. "Moya asks if your _quarters_ are acceptable."

"Quarters? Oh, my prison cell."

"Commander you are _not_ being held captive."

"So I can leave any time. Just get in my module and go."

His large eyes blinked. "If that is your desire."

"Fat lot of good it would do me with that Crais character after me."

"Captain Crais is pursuing all of us, Commander Crichton. Now," he sighed, "your quarters?"

"The bed's a little hard, but the blanket is silky and soft, comfortable even."

More tones sounded. "If you wish to have a pallet for your sleeping platform Moya can easily grow one for you."

"You said grow."

"Yes. The material would be derived from a natural insulating substance that Moya grows. It is used to mediate thermal transfer of the gravity bladders."

I shook my head.

"Something wrong?"

"No." I was shaking my head. "A living ship."

"You have no, what would you say? You do not use other creatures on your world?"

"Animals which we use for _domestic_ purposes, yes, we do." I didn't want to say beast of burden for this beast had a mind of her own, and she was sheltering my tender pink body from the vacuum of space.

"So Commander you find it strange that Moya can grow a part of herself that would aid your comfort."

"No… it's just…"

"What?" he asked.

"Hard to accept," I gulped and waved my arms. "A living ship. You. All of it."

Pilot almost shrugged. "On my home world - _Dolen_ \- there are no creatures such as yourself, or Zhaan, or even D'Argo. You have your skeleton on the inside. My people have theirs on the outside. Is that so hard to accept?"

"Like a lobster."

"What's that?"

"On earth we have crustaceans, crabs, lobsters, crayfish, even roaches, and they have exoskeletons. They live on land and in oceans and in fresh water." I laughed. "Need an awful lot of drawn butter."

"Butter?"

"Never mind. Will it hurt? Growing this pad thing. Hurt Moya."

"No."

"Then yes, I'd like a sleeping pallet for my bed. Aeryn might like one too."

Pilot looked at me long and hard. "One more thing."

"Yes?"

"Moya… Moya…" More deep tones sounded echoing deep into room. "She requests, no demands, that you do _nothing_ to harm her and if you wish to leave, you may. Simply say so. But if you are or become a threat you should understand that the DRDs will be used to remove you - forcibly if considered necessary."

I smiled. "And go where?"

Pilot coughed. "Zhaan tells me that your home world is very far away."

"Yeah. Somewhere. Out there."

"So you plan on staying with us."

"Yeah, sure. Why not? I'll stick around for a while and I won't bite the hand that feeds me."

"I see." Pilot cocked his head. "I believe that I understand what you are saying Commander."

"Fine. Fine. Can I go?"

"Yes, that is acceptable. Well then, if you don't mind I have some things to attend to. Thank you for the…"

"Chat? Yeah, me too."

Pilot's arms continued to waver over his control panel never having stopped once.

"Pilot?"

"Yes?"

"What's your name?"

He sighed. "You couldn't pronounce it."

I stared at Pilot and I had to ask. "So how did you get this gig? Being bonded to a leviathan?"

Pilot's eyes closed then snapped open. "I was chosen. Now, Commander Crichton, if you would," he waved an arm in a very readable gesture.

I left his lair thinking that for a bug-eyed, uhm, _creature_, he wasn't half bad, not a nightmare by H.P. Lovecraft.

"Commander?" he called to my back.

I turned to face him. "Yes?"

"Moya welcomes you."

"Oh, okay. Tell her…" I stopped. "Pilot and Moya, thank you - _both_ of you."

Pilot almost bowed. "She says we will have further conversations."

"I'll look forward to it," I told him. "See you later." I turned towards the door which opened before me, and only after I got out in the tier, did I realize how much I had been sweating bullets.


	5. Chapter 5

**Rated: T for Teen. Suitable for all ages of hoomans above the minimum age to watch sci-fi.  
Time: Just after Episode 1 - "Premiere / Through the Eye of the Needle"  
FARSCAPE is owned by the Jim Henson Company. This story is for purely personal entertainment purposes. No encroachment on any property rights are intended or implied.  
**  
Still shaking after my encounter with Pilot, I stumbled down the tier until I heard voices coming from the common area. I crouched down outside the open door and listened carefully since it was very obvious they were discussing me.

"I don't like him," sniffed Rygel. "Every time I look at him he reminds me of Peacekeepers."

"Thanks for that, your Eminence," Aeryn said sarcastically. "And you remind me of…" she finished with a disgusted sound.

"Well I was tortured by them, erhm, your people, Officer Sun," the little slug answered her.

D'Argo coughed. "Rygel, drop it."

Rygel began to answer him when a hand slapped the table hard. "Enough!" Zhaan yelled. "John is as much a refugee as any of us."

Aeryn laughed. "Refugee? More like escaped criminal."

"Officer Aeryn," Zhaan answered her softly. "We are all on the run; fleeing for our lives."

D'Argo laughed. "Well for a criminal that maneuver he came up with got us away from the Command Carrier. What was that?"

I head a buzz as the holo-projector snapped on and Pilot spoke. "It was a way to increase our velocity – enormously I will say – at a random vector making the Carrier's fire miss and by a wide margin."

D'Argo laughed. "Not bad for a hooman," he said. "Not bad at all. If we knew of this technique at the Battle of Ildris Gan…"

Aeryn butted in. "Then your revolt against the Zernergans might have succeeded a solar year earlier."

"Yes… this may be true," he answered. "So, Pilot, this way to move Moira, can you reproduce it?"

"I'm afraid not, General Ka D'Argo," Pilot told him. "It required calculations that I and Moira were not privy to. Commander Crichton had no time at that critical moment to share his thinking process nor the steps necessary to compute the needed velocity and atmospheric entry angle." He stopped. "Moira and I am still… mystified… why it worked. We all should be dead."

I heard Aeryn push her chair away from the table and start to pace around the common room. "So… here we are, free, meanwhile heading deeper into the Uncharted Territories. And we are still breathing. I for one appreciate that fact."

No one said anything for a few seconds; microts I corrected myself; trying to think in alien time units.

Zhaan said, "There is that. We are free, at least for the moment. I for one prefer breathing free then being a prisoner, no matter my companions or the circumstances."

"Err, so do you trust this Crichton?" Rygel muttered. "I don't."

"Rygel he saved your life – all our lives!" Zhaan protested. "I for one think that he is stranger than any of us know. His reactions to our environment and us show this experience is clearly far beyond anything that he has ever experienced. We may need to give him time to adjust to the present state of affairs."

I heard Aeryn go to the food machine and draw a cup of some liquid. "Well," she sighed, "he did get me away from Captain Crais." I heard her gulp at whatever drink she held. "Irreversibly contaminated?" she laughed sardonically. "I'd be dead by now if not for him, so as irritating as he is, he has proven himself… useful… at times."

D'Argo laughed aloud. "Settled then. Aeryn considering how terrible he was firing that Peacekeeper's weapon, perhaps you can begin drilling him on firearms."

"As soon as you give me my pulse pistol back, I shall," she told him.

"Hmmph," Rygel muttered. "Settled? I don't trust him, or this Peacekeeper, or our situation. And safe in the Uncharted Territories? Further into the void?"

"We have no choice Dominar," Zhaan reminded him.

D'Argo chuckled with no mirth. "Rather go back towards the Commerce Planet? Back to Captain Crais?"

Rygel told them. "Uhm, no, not what I was saying."

I heard Aeryn cross the room and she must have grabbed Rygel by the throat for he started to wheeze. "Rygel I don't trust you either!" she snarled. "You frelling little…"

"The feeling is mutual Aeryn Sun," he grunted.

"Stop! Stop it! All of you!" Zhaan screeched. "If we don't work together…"

I chose that moment to walk into the room and they all froze. "Then we shall all hang together or something like that. United we stand – divided we fall."

D'Argo came around the table and peered down at me, his head tentacles flapping from his rapid stomp. "United – stand. Divided – fall. Hmm. I like that."

I looked at him then around the room. "Where I come from, it's a good idea that we all start over." I stuck out my right hand to D'Argo and after a second he took my hand in his. "My name's John Crichton, Astronaut."

"General Ka D'Argo," he said in return. "Erh, Crichton, do you suppose you could teach me how to do that atmosphere bounce thing?"

"You any good at n-dimensional calculus?"

"I am a warrior, not a mathematician. My tools are weapons."

"Well I am a physicist along with other things." I dropped his hand and leaned across the table staring at the rest of them. "So here we are a lost astronaut, that's me, a blue healer / priest, an escaped Leviathan and her Pilot, a Luxan warrior, a deposed Dominar, and an outcast Peacekeeper." I shook my head. "Louisa Wu and his motley crew."

Zhaan smiled. "Louisa Wu?"

"Science fiction. Never mind." I drew up a chair and sat down and casually crossed my legs. "Now… what do we do next?"

"We?" Rygel muttered.

"Yeah. We. You, me, us." I leaned back. "Seems to me that we are in this mess together. We're a crew, like it or not. We have to get along – work together – depend on each other like we did back there." I gestured with my thumb behind me. "At the Commerce Planet."

Zhaan grinned. "Well put John Crichton."

"Call me John," I told her.

Aeryn glared at me. "All your fault – all your frelling fault!" she yelled.

"Oh? Was I the one who captured all of you in the first place? Or bolted a command collar onto Moya, or tortured Rygel and D'Argo?" I sighed. "Or declared you to be irreversibly contaminated? I'm a casualty of circumstance, just like all of you. Like I said united…"

"We stand, divided we fall," added D'Argo. He bared his teeth and laughed out loud. "I like you Crichton! You do have zercombobs!"

"I'll take that as a compliment." I nodded at him. "You too."

Aeryn stamped over and glowered down at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Weapons training in the maintenance bay – in one arn!" she commanded.

I gave her a half-salute. "Oui, mon commandant!"

She shook her head, dark hair flying. "I didn't get that."

I stood so we were nose to nose. "Means yes, Aeryn. I'll be there."

"Do not be late!" she sneered, then turned on her heel and left in a huff, stomping her booted feet, and Dad I have to tell you she did look good in those tight pants.

Zhaan smiled once more. "That's settled then. We shall press on towards the Uncharted Territories – deeper than we thought. Perhaps Captain Crais will give up the pursuit."

I shook my head. "Naw. That bad boy will never stop. He'll come after us like a hungry dog after raw meat."

Dominar sniffed then rode his throne chair away. "You're all mad," he said as a parting shot and his sarcastic laughter echoed down the tier.

Pilot coughed. "Your wishes?"

Zhaan and D'Argo exchanged looks. "Forward Pilot," Zhaan answered Pilot. "Best speed that Moya can make."

Pilot bowed his head. "As you say," and his image winked out.

D'Argo walked to the port and looked out at the vista of churning stars and galaxies. "I've got a bad feeling about this," he muttered.

Zhaan said, "But we are free."

I went around the table and stood between them. "Yes… we are free," I sighed. I stared out the port for a minute or so and wondered Dad, where home was? I've got a feeling this is gonna be a very long journey.

Zhaan patted my arm. "I shall be in my chamber meditating."

"Fine. See you later."

D'Argo clapped his hands. "And I shall be up in Command."

"Okay."

He looked at me from the corner of his eye. "I like you Crichton, and I don't know why." His harsh voice cackled, he whacked me on the back nearly breaking it, then he too left.

Dad I am an alien amongst aliens – lost in the stars; just trying to get back home. And perhaps, maybe a little, I do trust these people. Well more than a little bit. "What other choices do I have?" I said aloud.

What did they say on Star Trek? "Space the final frontier…" I chuckled. "Roddenberry you had no idea," I said to myself. I squared my shoulders. "Away we go. Into the stars." Rattlers be damned.

THE END

**Thanks for reading! The reference to 'Louis Wu and his motley crew' is from Larry Niven's "Ringworld."**

**Rob**


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